Walking to a Standstill

Later that day I had to take Mum to see her Cardiologists, one of either Dr Alton or Dr Braniff, at their private consulting rooms for her treadmill test.  Apart from determining the damage to her heart and to see how Mum had recovered since her Heart Attack, we also needed approval for Mum to fly, firstly to the Bay Area and my home; after further recuperation she’d then fly back to England.  We drove to their offices and a very nervous Cynthia Weaver got out of the car and we walked into the reception.  I announced our arrival to the Receptionist and we took seats and waited, Mum was fidgeting about with her bag, then her hair, then her nails, not talking very much and I knew she was worried, as neither of us knew what a treadmill test involved.  Dr Alton appeared with a nurse at his side and introduced the nurse and himself again to Mum and I.  We walked through the offices to a room that had a curtain down the middle, a desk, an examination couch and three chairs.  Dr Alton asked Mum to go behind the curtain and to gown up and then he took her pulse, blood pressure and a small amount of blood that he passed to the nurse, who disappeared with it. 

He explained that he wanted to test her blood for enzymes that indicate heart damage and whether her levels had returned to normal or nearer to a normal reading as could be expected.  He then addressed the treadmill test and pulled apart the curtains to reveal a large treadmill of the kind found in most gymnasiums those days.  Mum was to start on the treadmill at walking pace and after a short while once she was comfortable, Dr Alton would incrementally increase the speed of the belt to the point where Mum would be walking fast, (which actually turned out to be the understatement of the week).  She could ask him to stop at any time and he would be in control of the machine making sure she could manage and was not in any pain.  She would need to be linked up to monitors and he commenced by placing sticky pads on her skin around her chest and back.  He then linked cables to these pads that led to the monitors.  Mum looked across to me and I tried my best to be positive and smiled back, saying things such as “You’ll be fine Mum,” and “I went on one of those once, they’re great fun!”  Twat that I am! 

Mum manoeuvred around the treadmill and gingerly stepped onto it, placing her hands on the side rails and walked to the very front of the pathway wearing a gown, her own purple tracksuit bottoms and a pair of trainers.  Dr Alton asked that I remain seated during the test, so I nodded my head and then once happy with Mums positioning, he turned on the treadmill and the recording began.  Mum began walking forward quite at ease with herself, Dr Alton checked a number of the dials and referred to numbers being printed off as her progress continued.  After a few minutes he informed Mum that he was going to increase the rate of speed slightly, that she should step up her pace to match and that she should tell him whether she felt any discomfort.  Mum said that was fine and continued walking, my perception being that she had only increased her speed slightly.  Once again, after a few more minutes he said the same words, he’d be increasing the speed and she’d need to match her pace to the treadmill, but this time there was a noticeable speed increase at which Mum said “oo-er!” but she carried on, her breathing becoming slightly more exaggerated but still not too concerning.  After a few more minutes the pattern repeated itself and the speed increased again, Mum now progressing at a good rate and starting to show the effects slightly as she gripped the handrails more tightly.  I looked across at Dr Alton who catching my stare shook his head as if to say, ‘don’t worry’.  This speed remained in place for around five minutes and then increased again; the notice given by the Doctor and the change made.  By now Mum was really striding purposefully along; her breathing clearly audible and her face flushing as she chased along on top of the treadmill.  Every now and then she would make a noise similar to her earlier “oo-er”, I would look at Dr Alton and he’d shake his head. 

Eventually Dr Alton said he was going to apply a final speed increase and did just that.  Mum gave a little 'shriek' but stayed upright and her pace was a very fast walk indeed.  She had started to perspire; her hands gripped the rails for support, not just for the purpose of reassurance and comfort and she started to say that she did not think she could carry on much longer.  I looked at Dr Alton with some alarm but again he shook his head (Mum being unaware of our quiet communication) and he gave her words of encouragement whilst hastily making notes and marks on print outs.  The nurse standing to the other side of Mum was offering her own words of support but I was sure that at any moment Mum would give in and I had vision of her being flung across the room backwards, straight into Dr Alton and his machines and monitors.  Her little feet were a blur as she walked faster than she’d walked for many a year, left after right after left after right, on and on and on.  I saw her pretty face flushed and sweaty, the gown billowing as she surged along, her breathing getting heavier and harder.  I wanted to shout out “C’mon man, stop the thing, stop her walking now, that’s enough”.  I was really worried, but was caught between jumping up and staying put as ordered.

Just as Mum was almost at the point of collapse Dr Alton began to reduce the speed, I wanted to get up and help Mum but as hard as it was, I remained seated.  In slow stages the speed of the treadmill reduced to a slow walk and then stopped.  Mum hung onto the rails to stop herself from sliding to the floor.  “Well done” said Dr Alton, “Really, very well done Cynthia, you did better than I expected”.  I said much the same thing as Mum with the aid of the nurse, clambered off of the apparatus and stumbling over, took a seat next to me.  Looking at her, I could see tears forming in her eyes, but she was a tough customer and would not cry even when pushed to the limit physically or mentally.

 

I held her hand and once more felt the tough skin between the thumb and index finger on her left hand, where she’d scalded herself many years ago.  The skins natural stretch lines had hardened into stiff ridges that no amount of moisturiser was going to soften but I found that with continuous massage, it would become more pliable and tender.  Her face was bright red, her freckles more pronounced and her eyes, whilst full and watery with the stress, only projected her spirit and inner strength as she smiled as though delighted by the fun of it all.  The kind of strength that comes from being mother to five children, two who had grown up with serious illnesses, whose husband had worked so hard he’d died of a cardiac arrest at 53!  Looking back I wonder whether the fear I saw in her during those weeks, had been amplified by the memories of her husbands loss when he was so young and it was so unexpected.

Dr Alton sat down in his swivel chair and spun himself around to face us both.  “Cynthia, that was excellent!  You walked far faster and further than I would have thought possible given your recent heart attack and can tell you that it is very unlikely that you will ever exert yourself to the extent of the test in future”.  I smiled at Mum and said that that was great news.  “Your heart is almost as strong now as it has ever been Cynthia, you are at very little risk of another heart attack.  However you must make some changes to diet and exercise if you are to ensure you remain fit and healthy, the nurse has some pamphlets for you to take away, Nurse?” To which the nurse then handed me a large A4 sized envelope stuffed with information.  Mum had by now caught her breath and was able to speak up.  She asked Dr Alton when she could return to England and he advised that she would be able to fly back to San Francisco within a week, as the flight would travel at a lower altitude than a large inter-continental airliner and that after another few weeks in San Francisco recuperating, she would be well enough to fly home.  “Mum cannot fly home on her own”, I said “but the Insurance Company will not meet the cost of my flight unless specifically told by her surgeon that she cannot fly home unaccompanied”.  “Ridiculous isn’t it” said Dr Alton, “I’ll write you a letter, you can collect it anytime after tomorrow”.

Mum went behind the curtain and emerged looking like she had never taken the test.  Her hair was combed, her make-up re-done and her face shone with a bright smile.  Mum turned to Dr Alton and taking his hand had thanked him for care and asked him to pass on her regards to Dr Braniff.  In the future, whenever we spoke of those days in Santa Barbara, Mum would speak of the two Cardiac Surgeons as though they were saints.  I suppose they were to her and we certainly owe them and the entire medical services team at the St Francis Hospital, along with the Paramedics in the Ambulance the same level of respect and thanks.

We drove back to our Motel and rested for the remainder of that day.  A visit to Rodeo Drive just in case she might see Joan Collins was the order of the following day and another trip out to Solvang and Lake Cachuma rounded off our time in Santa Barbara quite nicely.  Mum sent cards to both her Cardiologists and Dr Alton wrote to Mum on a number of occasions over the years, as she would write to him and send cards at Christmas each year.

Not so cocky now are you?

Suited, Booted and Big-Haired - 

only without Tuxedo Shirt!

I awoke next to Monique, her breathing steady and quiet.  I looked over the balcony and could see the Pacific Ocean in the distance through the large picture window.  There wasn’t a sound to be heard apart from Monique’s breathing and I lay back down looking up at the ceiling, noticing the concave lines between the sheet-rock where the Spackle (plaster) had not quite covered the joints.  If I'd of lived down there I may well have been the decorator who painted that place, such was my work in the Bay Area.  Painting new build condo's and apartments.  Monique stirred beside me and I looked at her profile lying as she was on her back.  Little twitches behind her eyelids were apparent as was the slight flaring of her nostrils as she breathed in.  Stunningly beautiful even when asleep, I reached over and drew traces with my fingertips softly around her face and watched her nose wriggle and her lips purse as my fingers moved over them.  Smiling as I considered the events of the night before, I lifted the sheet slightly to look at her body, her breasts were smooth mounds, each topped with a raspberry coloured nipple, her stomach flat and taught, the slight mound raising up between her hips covered with soft hair.  My fingertips moved across her skin tentatively, unwitting to disturb her slumber and I could feel myself getting aroused as my touch moved ever lower, silkily, delicately stroking her skin and the hair between her legs which were beginning to spread again,  Whether unconsciously or not, she was enjoying my touch and I was getting ready to start the second round.

My attention was momentarily distracted by a phone ringing somewhere, probably next door, I then remembered Mum and looked at my watch.  It was still early, only just after seven and I wondered whether I should continue my gentle foreplay or whether I could fall back to sleep if I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, postponing the seduction for a while longer.  Whilst I could have carried on with the seduction as it was, there was no chance of anymore sleep!  I was wide awake now and needed to decide whether to continue my amorous manoeuvres or not, when Monique rolled over and away from me.  I  sat up searching the room for my boxer shorts, jeans, cigarettes and lighter, and finding them, picked them up and made my way downstairs as quietly as possible to the kitchen.  I filled the kettle turned it on, pulled on my clothes and searched the cupboards for cups, instant coffee and sugar.  I found everything I needed and having made a brew walked across the ground floor and out through the patio doors onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me.  

The clean bite and snap of the salty sea air hit my throat and I breathed in deeply which in-turn inspired a deep throaty cough, smoking!  I sat on a patio chair and recovered my coffee from the table, where I placed it during my coughing fit, and drank as much as I could, despite the heat of the liquid.  I lit a Marlboro and stared out to sea, the cars on Highway 1, between myself and the Ocean; zipping past, their shapes disappearing and reappearing, as they passed behind the tall pines along the roadside and on the hills.  The Ocean was a deep blue, almost green in colour and here and there, white-capped waves formed and pursued one after the other in a race to shore.  Seagulls, their wings spread wide soared up and away as the waves grew in size as if trying to reach up and pull down the birds, the Gulls calling but the noise barely reaching me where I sat.  I smoked and sipped in turn, savouring the taste of both coffee and tobacco; a true flavour partnership if ever there was one.

Walking back inside I found Monique coming out of the bathroom, naked.  She smiled and said “Good morning George”.  “Hi, how are you?” I asked, “Feeling great, do you want more coffee?” she said looking at the cup in my hand.  “Yes please” I replied and walked over to where she stood by the entry to the kitchen where I took her in my arms and kissed her lightly on the lips.  She wriggled free and made fresh filter coffee, still naked; and it was all I could do to stop myself from bending her over the sink and taking her again.  “I told you I wanted to take you to my friends house, remember?” she asked.  “Of course I do” I said, “well they work and we have to get going if we’re going to catch them” she said, darting past me and upstairs to get dressed. “Oh” I thought to myself, no chance of a quickie to start the day off right then?  I followed her upstairs to find her pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, Nike’s and a cardigan.  I picked up my creased white shirt and dressed, aware that I was going to look very out of place in my evening finery.  “Are you sure we have to meet these guys?” I asked, “My clothes look a bit over the top”.  “You’ll be fine they won’t care,” she said and dashed downstairs to the bathroom again emerging a few minutes later, after I had followed her down, freshly made up, her hair tied back and she was bouncing around excitedly.  I collected my keys and wallet and we walked out to her car and she drove back down the hill towards the Ocean, turning onto a road leading through an estate.  We parked outside a block of apartments and she was out of the car in a shot with me following after her.  She knocked on the door of the first apartment we came to and I heard a squeal come from within and seconds later the door flew open and three women stood in front of me, staring and laughing, saying simultaneously, “Oh…my………god”.

“This is George Michael,” said Monique.  More squeals and shrieks, the women were all aged around their late teens, early twenties and were bouncing up and down as though on springs, “Come in, come in” said one and Monique and I walked in, as they all stood to one side.  As I passed by they scrutinised me closely, staring and looking at one another and then closed the door behind us.  I sat next to Monique, who grasped my hand and held it tightly on her thigh as the others circled around and then sat on a low couch opposite.  Monique looked like she was fit to burst and started telling them all about the meal and the kissing, the jazz bar, more kissing and eventually got to the part where we arrived at her apartment.  Her audience were captivated, sitting tightly together and issuing forth, “oohs” and “ahs” and more “oh…my…gods”.  Meanwhile, I was looking at them, two blondes and a brunette, all built for fun and not a ‘Goppa’ amongst them; Mark Cameron would be kicking himself!  My mind went into overdrive, a “5-some” might be on the cards I thought, but where would I start?  Monique spared most of the gory details from our late night session in her apartment, but said enough to ensure that the women went from looking at her in envy, to looking at me in lust.  Excellent!

But………there is always a ‘but’.  They all had to get to work the clock was ticking and with no more than a quick peck on each cheek from each, we were gone.  We got into her car and Monique said “Right, I’ll drive you to the Motel”.  I was pleased that she didn’t say, “I’ll drive you back to your Mum” as it would have been weird.  “They know I am not George Michael, right?” I said, “Those girls, your friends, they know I’m not him?”  Monique had a mischievous smile running across her lips and said stared ahead at the road.  I suppose she wanted them to think she’d slept with a star, or, she had told them the truth and had wanted to show me off, to get them to appreciate just how easily she had assumed I was him and all the more after my Mum had confirmed as much; I’ll never know.  Monique drove me back to the Motel pulled into the car parking space next to my car and did not turn off the engine.  I looked at her, she looked at me and I knew that this was it, over.  Nothing else, no follow up’s, no repeats, no relationship.  Simply sex, well actually superb sex, if I do say so myself.  A one-night stand, and were there no complaints from either of us.  

Well, I was actually a little put out that the tables had not only been turned, in so far as she was the one walking out so to speak, before anything like a repeat could be bought up.  But also, I really did like her.  I leant across and made to kiss her cheek but she turn her face towards me and kissed me softly on the lips.  “I loved last night, it was great,” she said.  “Same here,” I replied.  “Take care,” she offered and I turned, opened the door and stepped out of the car.  I closed the door and she reversed the car back and turned to face the road.  She opened her window and said, “I’ll always remember last night.”  I started to walk forward, to get to her window and say we could do it again but she was already driving to the exit and pulled out almost straight away.  Gone. 

My thoughts turned to my winking at myself in bathroom her mirror last night, after the sex and thinking how cocky I was, how so self assured.  In fact, I now wonder whether, as Monique drove off, had she looked in her rear view mirror and smiled to herself, cocky as ever, so self-assured?  Tables turned and feeling more deflated than elated I walked back to our Motel door turned the key and walked in, finding Mum sitting on her bed reading.  I said hello and noticed that a large picture that had been hanging on the wall above my bed was laid on top of the bedding.  “Those nice men from next door knocked on our door last night, they wanted to see if you wanted to go out with them,” she said.    "He still couldn't take no for an answer, the stubborn sod," I thought.  I picked up the painting and held it in my hands.  “That picture came off the wall in the middle of the night, there was lots of banging and noise going on,’ said Mum.  “I bet there was!” I thought, not telling her that it was the gay bloke who’d offered me a freebie nosh off and his partner.  They were probably shagging so forcibly that they caused the painting to fall off its hook!  I hung it back up and stood back, "Did you have a nice time?" asked Mum.  "Wonderful", I replied, "But I don't think I'll see Monique again."  Mum didn't respond, probably noting the tone of my voice as I spoke and sensing that all had not gone as well as I had planned or expected.  With the painting back on the wall I looked at it again, thinking about how lucky I was to have avoided it landing on my head and noting to myself that last night had been a hit and a miss.

I Want Your Sex

Monique took my hand and led me upstairs.  The balcony bedroom overlooked the sitting area and the high gable wall above the patio doors held a large picture window offering a view out towards the Pacific Ocean in the distance, but not that one we could see at night.  She sat me on the bed and stood back as if gauging what action to take next before undoing the button and zip at the side of her dress, letting it fall to the ground and standing in front of me, naked save for a minute G-string, her full breasts defied gravity in such a way as one may have suspected that a thin wire fixed to the ceiling was attached to the nipples, holding them up.  Monique stepped toward me and pushed me onto my back straddling me as she leant down and kissed me.  My hands touched the skin on her back softly stroking and moving from where her ribs began then drifting around her sides and under her breasts.  The skin reacting to my touch tensing and relaxing in turn as my fingertips passed across it, goose pimples rising and the soft downy hair popping to attention.  She moaned as I did this and squirmed, forcing herself down against my waist eliciting further moans from her and inspiring a large erection on my part.  She began to undo the buttons of my shirt, her hands pushed their way inside and she squeezed my nipples erect as her fingers ran through the hair on my chest and down toward my waist, where she found my belt buckle and after some seconds worth of struggle, gave up trying to undo it and pausing, sat up, smiled at me said, “undo it”.  I immediately complied.

The buttons on my 501’s popped through their holes in rapid succession, as having undone the top button she pulled the two sides apart much like ripping apart a present, eager to see and get her hands on the prize inside.  Jumping back off the bed she grasped at the heels of my boots and ripped them off casting them aside behind her and doing the same with my socks, before taking hold of my jeans by the ends of the leg and ripping them off, tossing them after the boots.  Monique stood before me letting her hair free from the confines of the band holding it in place.  I sat up and reaching out pulled her towards me and down onto the bed flipping her over onto her back and took in her beauty once more.  I sat astride her this time, leaning down kissing her softly on the lips, then her cheek and by her ears before sliding my tongue down her neck, pausing at the point her collar bones met to form a small indent below her throat, kissing and nuzzling her there.  My hands manoeuvred under the small of her back as I continued my journey south.  Pausing again at her breasts I kissed around her nipples and noticed the skin tighten and small bumps and depressions on her dark nipples appear, either in anticipation of my contact or immediately afterward.  Soft moans and sighs of pleasure came from her as I continued kissing my way around her body, holding her in place with my hands at her waist, the thumbs stroking the sides of her stomach, my fingers gently stretching the skin across the small of her back and sliding under the elastic of her G-string.

Arriving at the top of her G-string I ran my tongue along its width, hip-to-hip, occasionally under the elastic and material; a move that forced out a louder moan and a thrust of the hips from Monique.  By now my feet were on the floor and in one fluid motion, I picked her up and moved her further onto the bed before settling back down and resuming my kisses and strokes.  Her legs were slowly opening as I kissed around her waist and despite the urge to simply rip down her underwear and dive right in, I stalled; knowing that to move to fast would not deliver what we both wanted and moreover, after all the espionage so far, the move would not do justice to what had gone before.  Using my tongue like a finger I forced down the front of her G-string and felt the well-trimmed soft hairs parting at its touch.  I eased my thumbs under the elastic at her hips and pulled downwards.  The front of the G-string eased lower and her legs opened further to assist me, and I paused watching as the material slowly rolled down until it reached her folds of skin between her legs where it held stubbornly in place, her wetness sticking the cloth to her skin.  A subtle smell, the musky sweetness of sex and seduction arose from her as I drew the elastic and material down; the sweet smelling wetness finally releasing the damp silky cloth which sprang back in place to keep up with the rest of her G-string, as it was eased down her thighs over her knees and finally off her legs.  Monique opened her legs wide, signalling her request for further attention and I moved to her thighs kissing and caressing as I journeyed back the other way.  I had slipped off my boxer shorts as I had taken her underwear off, the odd tug and twist moving them downwards as I went about my work.  The urge started again.  The urge to simply slide inside her, pushing all the way in until out hips met.  I cancelled the thought but my uncircumcised erection throbbed and waved about as I moved and each time it caught the skin on her legs I tensed, as a spasm of pleasure shot through my groin and up my body.  My tongue slid along the inside of her left thigh and then upward, flicking across her wet labia and then her clitoris, across the short hair above and down the other side in a heart shape.  I continued this pattern for a time, each pass across her clitoris forcing a deep pant from her chest and a smile inside me, as I was where I wanted to be since the moment Monique had made her presence known in the Jazz bar.  The extent of the heart shape began to close in after a time, as I focused more closely around her inner thighs and clitoris, eventually changing the pattern altogether into a straight line from her clitoris down to the base of her pussy; with my nose, lips, tongue and chin all coming to bear as they touched her pleasure points.   

Monique was getting wetter and wetter and her panting becoming evermore urgent as with each sweep up and down I increased the speed, settling eventually into a steady continuous rhythm.  Her breaths started to come in small gulps as her body tensed and relaxed with one of my hands stroking her stomach and the other holding open her legs , keeping her in place.  Monique’s body tensed and relaxed in waves; her voice urging me to “keep, doing, th..that”, each word panted out a breath at a time.  Her lips had opened now, given the continuous pushing, licking and the incessant up and down strokes.  I lapped at her, tasting and smelling her as she got wetter and hotter, the rhythm, the pressure, the speed, repeating; the urging, exploring, brushing, licking and tasting continuing.  I reached for and found her hands and taking her by her wrists pushed her arms down by her sides holding her there, her body pined to the bed.  This drew even louder panting for air as she bucked and forced her groin down and against my face, grinding herself against my nose, tongue and chin in turn as my head moved up and down, up and down, up and down, up and down, up and…………. then she came; shouting at me to “keep, going, keep, doing, that…that…that…oh…oh…yes…that…yes…yes!” her body arcing off the bed, the noises were animal and throaty as the orgasm ripped through her.  I released one arm and she grabbed at the back of my head pushing my face into her as I continued the rhythm and she shuddered again and again.  I got even more turned on by the very act of her orgasm as she continued to moan and buck herself against my face.

As the force of her orgasm subsided I kissed my way back up her body.  She reached up and pulled my head down towards hers and we kissed hard once again, all lips, tongues and teeth, before she eased back and licked the taste of herself from my face, small darting flicks of her tongue tracing around my lips, chin and nose.  We kissed again and she reached down and took my hard cock in her hand, it’s pulsating throb evident as she squeezed it tightly and moved her hand up and down it’s length.  I pulled myself up onto my knees and she followed to a sitting position her hands now working my cock and balls as she smiled up at me and I could have died in those eyes. 

Taking me in her mouth Monique applied herself with gusto as I lay back and let her work on me this time.  This was enormously pleasurable, her tongue flicking around as her head moved up and down, a hand joining in; to squeeze and touch.  It started to get away from me and she knew this.  I wanted it stopped after realising that I was about to come, but she would not stop.  Her head plunging up and down and up and down until………..I could no longer hold on and she stayed there, swallowing and sucking until I moved her head away, she masturbated me way past the point of orgasm, which made me laugh and shout as spasms of pleasure shot through my stomach.  Monique lay beside me and we kissed and stroked one another with our need to fuck growing ever more urgent until she asked, “screw me now”.  I picked her up turned her over and she rose onto her knees and manoeuvred her body back towards me.  I shuffled forward and placed the head of my penis against her lips and with no more than an almost imperceptible push she parted and I slid all the way inside her, the heat coming from her sending me into raptures.  With long slow strokes I proceed to fuck her, sliding almost all of the way out, pausing, before plunging back in again and we carried on like this for quite a while, her hand between her legs heightening her sensations and occasionally cupping my balls in a friendly squeeze.  We moved into a variety of positions eventually settling into the tried and tested cowgirl and she moved into another gear.  I was quite happy to come whenever she wanted me to and as she climaxed again I joined in, physically lifting her body up and down as we climaxed together.

We fell apart breathing heavily and lay still for a while taking in air and what had happened.  Monique went to the bathroom downstairs and returned with a tray holding re-filled wine glasses, the cigarettes and an ashtray.  I took a long glug of wine rinsing it around my teeth and swallowing it down.  It was icy cold and the tang pulled my head back into focus from the relaxed state I was now in.  I took a cigarette and lit it.  Monique sat on her knees with her legs curled underneath her; her hair was a tangled mess and her make up no longer perfect, but she looked stunning.  A soft glow radiating from her, the dewy like perspiration shimmering on her shoulders, throat and between her breasts.  I drew on the cigarette and passed it to Monique who took a deep pull and handed it back to me.  Neither of us spoke for a while happy to sit, smoke and drink.  I went to the bathroom and cleaned up, washing my face and hands and looked at myself in the mirror.  I smiled broadly at my reflection, proud of my performance and I gave myself a wink, still as cock sure as ever!

Back in the bedroom, Monique had slid under the sheets and lay there; robbed in white cotton, her bare arms by her side pulling the sheet taught across her body, the light accentuating her curves as she patted the bed next to herself.  “You ok?” she asked.  “Great yeah, thanks” I said, as I lay beside her on top of the bed and lit another cigarette.  “I want you to meet some of my friends in the morning, I told them all about you” she said.  “Ok, but I do need to get back to Mum fairly early, as I do not want her being alone for too long”.  Christ! I must have sounded like a little kid on his first night out alone!  But I guessed that as she was aware of the situation with Mum, she was quite prepared to drop me back at the motel and understood my pre-occupation.  “Cool” she replied and with that took a drink from her glass and placed it on the floor by the bed.  “Now fuck me again”.  I did as ordered and we varied our efforts to make sure we took advantage of all we had to offer each other.  I would have quite happily spent the whole night with my face between her legs, such was the effect I was having; that coupled with the enjoyment it gave me, would have kept me so turned on, there would have been no need to do anything else, but Monique was obliging by return and so the evening drifted into early morning, and we didn’t noticed the sun coming up.